


The Star God's Altar: Path to the Altar: The Crashed Cruiser

by moody_trans_detective



Series: Rogueass Galaxy [17]
Category: Rogue Galaxy
Genre: Gang Rape, Ghost Fucking, Ghost Possession, Multi, Orgy, Possession, Urination, going to need a potion after this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moody_trans_detective/pseuds/moody_trans_detective
Summary: Jaster breaks into an old crashed ship and is surrounded by horny ghosts.
Relationships: Jaster Rogue/some ghosts
Series: Rogueass Galaxy [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956043
Kudos: 2





	The Star God's Altar: Path to the Altar: The Crashed Cruiser

Zegram was the only one who appeared well rested. Kisala looked tired and grumpy, and Jaster himself yawned often. After being turned down he’d retreated back to the hut and laid down closer to Zegram than he wanted to get, figuring when Kisala got back from her walk she at least would have a buffer body between herself and Zegram—but she’d never come back. Jaster had slept adequately, although not deeply, and to his surprise Zegram hadn’t tried anything too weird.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” he’d asked, smugly, peeling a sanchez fruit for breakfast with a pocketknife.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But you want to fuck her.” Zegram had eaten slices of fruit right off the knife, smirking at Jaster. “Heh. ‘Course you do. You oughtta be careful with that one. She’ll stab you if you get too close.”

Jaster had sighed.

“I’m just looking out for you, kid. Your dick’s only looking out for one thing, you know.”

“I think you’re lucky she hasn’t stabbed you.”

“Heh,” Zegram had replied.

Jaster had gotten the hell out of the hut before Zegram had decided to start reliving the Mud Whooper fight. If Zegram had obsessed about it after breakfast, at least Jaster hadn’t been around for it. When Kisala had rejoined them she hadn’t said where she’d been all night, but her mannerism suggested everyone should keep their distance.

So it was probably good that there were numerous groups of beasts blocking their passage through the jungle. Any frustrations could be worked out on them, any need to avoid conversation easily seen to. As they made their way Jaster found his own irritation growing. This was nothing like he’d expected out of a pirate experience. Wandering a jungle for days searching for a specific fruit to turn into ship oil seemed like more of a quest than bending a few rules, and the company was not inspiring. A week ago he would have never imagined there would be fewer people to fuck in space than on Rosa. He almost felt homesick.

They came to a clearing with a weird feeling in the air. Birds sang distantly, the hum of insectors hung low to the ground. There was water here, splashing soothingly, and even a little breeze.

“Huh? Looks like a dead end,” said Zegram, noting the steep slopes.

“We should still look around,” said Kisala.

Jaster agreed.

“Right,” he said. He also noted the looks Kisala and Zegram were giving each other. They all needed some time to cool down. “Let’s split up and have a look around. We cover more ground faster that way.”

“Whatever you say, kid.”

Jaster was surprised the other two went with it so easily, but then maybe they wanted an excuse for some alone time. Kisala went off toward the water immediately, and Jaster simply picked the direction opposite of Zegram’s, which quickly proved to be a good choice. It took him directly to old, half-buried metal.

At first, Jaster didn’t understand what he was looking at. He neared the massive shape, curved and dented and overgrown with moss and hearty Juraikan plants. This metal was old, very old—at one point it had been smooth and sleek and shiny. Jaster put a hand up against it, feeling an almost warm hum to it. This was a ship, a cruiser maybe hundreds of years old, a model Jaster had never seen before but was similar in structure to some of the faster Jettison or Scuttler series Daytron had put out a few decades ago. Probably a precursor ship to those.

Jaster took a step back, impressed and intrigued. Obviously the ship had crashed here, considering it was half-buried in the jungle, and that he could see another large chunk of it not too far off likewise overgrown with underbrush. What had happened to the crew? Had they settled in Burkaqua Village, had they sent out a distress signal and been rescued? Jaster needed to see inside. He circled the cruiser until he found an old dock a few feet aboveground and slid the edge of the Desert Seeker into the crack where the control panel had to be. He pried it open and fingered around inside it until he located the manual release, right where it used to be on old ships. The click encouraged him. He dug his fingers into the gap on the door panel and heaved it open, old metal shrieking.

The interior should have been dark, any power long expended, and yet hazy green light glowed from somewhere. Did the people on this ship have a self-sustaining energy source? Jaster stepped up over the two-foot tall metal between the ground and the doorway and hauled himself into the crashed cruiser.

The air felt strange here, exciting, electric, but it smelled awful. He should have considered letting it air out, but of course there wasn’t time for that. Dust rose up in little clouds beneath his feet as he walked, but with Rosa as his home planet, a little dust didn’t bother him much.

He couldn’t find the source of the vague glow, which seemed to hover in the air somehow. No buttons or panels were lit, no light source from above shone down. The hairs on the back of Jaster’s neck and arms stood on end. He didn’t feel alone here. He turned back, but he’d gotten turned around and couldn’t find the way out. Finally he stopped, rested a hand on his hip. There had to be a way to figure out how to get back, even if he had crisscrossed all his footprints in the dust already.

Maybe he should just explore, wait to figure out how to find his way back once his curiosity was sated. He’d never gotten to see a ship this old up close before, and the green glow did light everything enough for him to poke around. He wiped thick, pale dust off the nearest interface console and wished the ship had power enough for him to go through old logs, the crew manifest, the mess menu. Instead he trailed fingertips over the buttons, the blank screen.

He heard creaking, footsteps. He wasn’t alone.

“Zegram?” he asked, turning, but saw no one. “Kisala?”

A burst of air teased across the back of his neck, like someone was breathing directly behind him. He whirled, hand on his sword, but again saw no one. He didn’t like this. He should find the way out. When he turned back again, a grey-green figure stood before him, not completely solid, not completely defined. No eyes. They hovered a few inches off the floor.

Shit. A ghost. Jaster knew his sword wouldn’t do anything against an opponent like this, not unless he’d added a bit of magic to the blade first.

“Neither,” said the ghost. “Who disturbs our resting place?”

“I’m Jaster. Jaster Rogue.” He paused, curious. “Were you aboard when the ship crashed?”

Another ghost appeared to his right, two more to his left. As Jaster turned to take them in, more appeared, behind him, in front of him, to the sides of him. All circling him, all staring eyelessly at him.

“We were aboard when the ship crashed,” they all said, not exactly as one, so that the words sounded like people praying at the church back in Salgin, but people who were unused to recitation.

“You all died,” he said. “None of you made it out? To Burkaqua Village?”

“No survivors. We remain as we are now, our bodies long turned to the dust you breathe.”

Well, just great. Jaster really wasn’t happy to breathe in dead people, but it wasn’t like he could take it back now. He let his hand drop from the Desert Seeker, not wanting to appear a threat.

“Do you know the way out?”

“Of course,” said a ghost to his left.

“This is our ship, our shell, our sanctuary of rest.” The first ghost he’d seen was speaking again. “You’ve violated us.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jaster. “I didn’t know. I’ll leave. Just show me the way out.”

“No.”

Jaster wasn’t sure what to do with that. He turned in a slow circle, searching. These eyeless, noseless, earless ghosts, all vaguely human in form, all glowing grey-green, simply stood there, encircling him. He couldn’t tell if they meant him no harm. He sensed they meant him something.

“You won’t fight?” asked a ghost to his right.

“No,” he said, not turning to see which had spoken. They all sounded similar, like different notes on the same instrument. How long had they been in this old cruiser, their essences bleeding together?

“Then what will you do?” asked another.

Jaster wasn’t sure. He said nothing.

“You are ours,” said the group of ghosts as nearly-one. “You violated us. You claim in ignorance.”

“Yes,” said Jaster. The air around him had changed, the ghosts’ glow now flickering. His pulse felt weird.

“We will violate you in return.”

Jaster peered around at them again.

“Do you mean…?” he asked, but they didn’t respond. He felt something like a shiver slide through him, charged. He didn’t hate the idea, strange as it was. “I’ve never had sex with a ghost before.”

“Your compliance isn’t necessary.” They were pressing in on him, closer, closer. He could practically feel the flickering of their light against his skin. “Only your body is.”

Jaster could see the only way out was through here. And he was somewhat intrigued what fucking a ghost was like. So he didn’t fight, and he didn’t resist. When he felt a ghost brush up against him, slide over him, into him, he welcomed the presence in. Jaster didn’t resist as the ghost took hold of his mind, his body, tingling energies threading through him, moving his limbs for him.

Jaster’s cock hardened so fast it hurt, but the ghost wouldn’t let him speak. So this was possession—to be totally aware of everything that was happening with your body and yet unable to influence it in any way. Jaster should have been more worried about what the ghost inhabiting him would do to him, but it seemed pretty clear after decades of nothingness, what the long-lost crew of the cruiser wanted was a good fuck. And Jaster appreciated a good fuck.

His body was stripping his clothes off now, dropping them to the dusty floor. Jaster breathed in clouds of the stuff, which seemed to thrill the ghost inside him. The others pressed closer together now, touch solid enough as they felt their way across his chest, over his ass. He sensed they were able to feel him due to the ghost’s presence inside him, bridging the gap between the planes of the living and dead. He wanted to speak but couldn’t.

The ghost began using Jaster’s hand to pump his cock a few times, and then a different ghost was kneeling before him, ghostly mouth over him. It felt different than a solid mouth, made his cock tingle more. Strange sounds came out of his mouth, another language, and Jaster had no idea what he was saying. Behind him, hands squeezed his ass.

Then, as though the ghosts were treating him as still in control of his own body, several hands grabbed him, dragged him away from the ghost sucking his cock. Jaster fell hard to the metal floor, choking on the thick dust, tears in his eyes. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t protest. Hands on him again shoved him to a low bunk, bent him over it. A ghost pinned one of his hands so far behind his back he would have cried out if he could have. The ghost took the other, twisted his fingers around, and shoved them up inside her. He was fisting a ghost, and it hurt like hell.

“How many can you take?” asked a ghost, words Jaster understood. They were followed by penetration; first one cock up his ass, then two, stretching him, filling him. Still his cock wouldn’t go down, was leaking precome like an old faucet onto the floor. The ghost possessing him wouldn’t let him deflate. Jaster lay there, unable to do anything but take it as one ghost took even more fingers up inside her, as two other ghosts pounded his ass.

And then they were all off him, and he was flipped around. Several ghosts were lined up on the floor; his possessed body went to them, one by one, pounded an ethereal vagina, then a ghostly ass, one after another, until each ghost had flickered like mad and their edges fuzzed. Jaster’s cock hurt, his ass hurt. The ghost inside him was thrilled. He considered wresting his will back, telling them they’d had enough fun.

But someone grabbed him again, flung him onto his back on the bunk, shoved a ghostly cock down his throat. More ghosts held his arms down, another climbed on top of him and forced Jaster’s cock up their ass.

“You will regret violating us,” said the ghost who’d originally revealed himself to Jaster. He was between Jaster’s legs, and whatever he was pushing up against Jaster’s ass was not a normal cock. “We can manipulate our shapes as well as we can manipulate you.”

He thrust in, a massive, lumpy cock, every part of Jaster on fire from it, wanting to pull away, wanting to scream, but the ghost possessing him let him do none of those things. Instead, Jaster came so hard he passed out. When he achieved consciousness again he couldn’t move the ways he wanted to. Someone was sucking on his nipples, electric tingle jolting through him. His ass was still getting pounded, and his mouth was still occupied, although as he noticed it the owner flickered with pleasure, cock vibrating in his throat, and came in the way these ghosts did. He then pulled out.

No one was riding Jaster’s cock any longer, but it was still painfully hard. He wanted desperately to come again, to relieve it, but the ghost possessing him had other ideas. Jaster felt his bladder release and his erect cock shot a stream of piss all over himself, the arc jerking with each thrust of the too-large cock up his ass. He hadn’t gone since breakfast and the piss kept coming, splattering across his skin, hot briefly and then cooling, stinging slightly where it ran down his sides. It pooled at the base of his throat, ran down his neck.

Then the ghost gave him what he wanted and he exploded across himself. He tilted his head up, watched the come spurt out, some of it striking his face. The ghost had him lick it off. Still his cock was hard.

Jaster was at the point where he’d probably beg if he could, but he couldn’t speak of his own volition. He laid there, immobile, and took the pounding until the ghost up his ass came and pulled out. Only then did the one possessing him let his cock go limp.

The ghosts all appeared around him again, their glow looking less grey and more green, the light from them brighter. The ghost possessing him left, but Jaster lay where he was a moment, feeling the ways his body was sore, or cold, or damp. His throat would be sore for a couple of days, his ass raw. The piss he could wipe up easily enough. His cock felt completely spent. It had been an experience, fucking without any control whatsoever, watching his body do things without guiding it himself.

“Hope I didn’t disappoint you,” he said at last, feeling awkward surrounded by silent ghosts. He managed to roll off the bunk, wincing and groaning. He took a cloth out of storage and wiped himself down.

“We are deciding whether to keep you until your body wears out,” said the first ghost.

Jaster didn’t much like that.

“You invigorate us,” said the others, as nearly-one.

“My body will wear out too fast if you keep this up.” Jaster pulled on his clothes, gritting his teeth. “Then what? I will be dust like you.”

“There will be others.”

“How long will you wait?” Jaster needed to talk his way out of this, and fast. “How long did you wait for me?”

His body screamed at him. They’d ridden him hard, tore him. His back was scraped up, he was bruised. He’d enjoyed it, yes, but he wanted to suck down a potion, and he didn’t want to do it in front of these ghosts. He didn’t think them malicious, but if they saw a way to keep him going they’d never let him leave.

“I tell a few choice people—not too many, you can stay hidden here—people who are into your sort of…thing, and you’ll get visitors time to time. People to drop by to invigorate you more.”

They said nothing. Jaster stood there.

“Will you show me the way out?”

One by one the ghosts faded out and for a moment Jaster feared they’d leave him to wander the corpse of this old ship forever. But the first ghost he’d seen remained glowing before him.

“Follow,” he said.

Jaster didn’t argue. He dragged himself through the ship, dust caught in his nose and throat, taking this to mean the ghosts accepted his suggestion. He had no idea how he’d gotten so turned around when the ghost had him to the exit in moments. Jaster turned back to him.

“Thanks,” he said. “My first time with ghosts was…memorable.”

“You enjoyed this.”

“Yes. Well, as much as I could.” He would have perhaps done a few things different.

The ghost hovered there for so long Jaster figured that meant he could leave. He turned to the doorway.

“Wait.”

Jaster turned back. Something on the floor in front of the ghost glowed.

“Take this. It is broken, but you may repair it and find it useful. Our first time with a living person as dead was memorable too.”

Jaster bent with effort, picked up the item. It looked like an old style blaster.

“What is it?”

“It is a Freeze Shot. It is no use to us now.” The ghost glowed more intensely for a moment. “Go, Jaster Rogue, before we change our minds about you.”

He faded away. Jaster took the hint and scrambled out of the crashed cruiser, used the last of his energy to yank the dock door closed. The metal shrieked again, and then he’d collapsed onto the mossy ground. Immediately he popped the cork on a healing potion and downed it in several large gulps. As he felt it working its magic, Zegram and Kisala found him.

“The hell you doing, kid? Napping?”

“Uh…” Jaster scrambled to his feet. He felt a lot better now. “Look at this.”

He held the broken Freeze Shot out for them to examine. Kisala made a face.

“Another gun,” she said.

“Could be useful,” said Zegram. “If it wasn’t broken. Come on, we’ve wasted enough time here.”

Jaster didn’t care to argue. Together they exited the clearing.


End file.
